


These Kind of Nights

by A_Candle_For_Sherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, POV Mrs. Hudson, Post-Canon, coming home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 00:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Candle_For_Sherlock/pseuds/A_Candle_For_Sherlock
Summary: Written for a Tumblr prompt: Mrs. Hudson finds out about John and Sherlock getting together and is a wonderful mum.





	These Kind of Nights

The night John moved back in, I heard him crying. I’d fallen asleep on the sofa, watching the late news and eating Jaffa cakes, and when I found my glasses and looked round, the microwave clock said it was three a.m. That’s a funny hour. A good hour for thinking, a bad one for thinking too hard. I thought about going to bed, but I felt somebody ought to stay up with John, even without him knowing–-especially without him knowing. So I just lay back, and got the end pillow arranged so I was comfortable, and covered up with the old quilt I keep under the sofa for these kind of nights. I could hear the rain on the roof.

I supposed Sherlock was asleep, or John wouldn’t have let himself go like that; he’s too proud by half. But when you’ve carried so much sadness for so long, and all at once you find yourself safe, and not alone anymore, it all slides off you at once and you feel strange just from the relief of it. At any rate, the crying went on a good long while; but when I saw him the next morning he looked brighter.

After that there were some quiet nights, and then one particular one--I remember it was past midnight, again, and I was in bed this time, when the giggling started. They’re like two boys sometimes, how they set each other off. It’s good to hear them, and I was just enjoying it when they went quiet. Suspicious, you know; no “Good night,” no water running in the loo, or footsteps trudging upstairs, just–-a hush. And I wondered.

Well, the next morning Sherlock pops his head in, on the way out, but only just woken, I could see that–-he’d not washed his hair and it was pretending to be tidy, but there was one curl sticking out over his ear, and his expression was still dreamy. He looked younger than he had when I met him in Florida. He looked happy, like he hadn’t since John left. “Bring you back a coffee?” he said, just that little bit out of breath, and I knew. “Pastry? We’re going to breakfast round the corner.”

“Hot chocolate,” I said, “thank you, love,” and then John came into the entry. His hair was brushed up better than Sherlock’s, but his shirt was rucked up in back, and I could see they’d been snogging just before they came down; and I couldn’t help saying, “Tuck your shirt back in, John, Sherlock’s pulled it out a bit.” Well, they both turned stark red, and John’s mouth fell open; but Sherlock started laughing.

“I did,” was all he said, so proud; and I thought I’d never seen him smile like that, and I might have gotten just a bit weepy, because Sherlock went soft-eyed, and came and kissed my head; and then they left. And after all that happens in this funny old world, I’m glad some people still get what they deserve, because they deserve each other; the worst and the best of each other. I’m glad that after everything, love keeps on.


End file.
